Lyric

Without permission, I killed my carpet

Pray for the sweet

Summer Night of running poncho

Daydream for vending machine

Beside the diamond day of white whales

They are swimming In a single file

This city punched me

Now I'm liquid

Inside this chicken

My dog and I are outsider artists

I will make a cup of coffee for you

It is good day for dying

Eccentric cattle is sleeping under the calm wave

Thanks for killing me

Be late for everything dude

The Future dies out, here today

In this apartment no one can hear you scream

You’re an ice cream on Bloody Mary

Served inside the sinking bar

I have Manchester in my mouth, but Breeze is so nice

Caught the sun was still transparent

It showed that I am a little bit closer to the truth

My thought is clear

You’re so ugly that’s ok cos so am I

Is this life, Kurt?

Flower

Surfing slowly

Crashing into the silent nite

But, Was a all dream

That face is not crying

That face was not crying

That face is not crying

City of fuckin angels

I could terminate myself for this brilliant hate

I fucked up for this tenderness

There is no room for interruption

...But

There is room for you named interpretation

《Ambivalent ,Abstract ,Anger... THE MELTDOWN OF CHUUPACHAPS》

"it’s time for our William Tell act”

No I think maybe It’s bathroom

Fuck Homeostasis

But I like it

Till my body’s burn out

It seems blood on the white sofa

90% of human is Parked in IKEA

Wearing Gucci sunglasses

Inside the car

I sometimes ask myself

‘Is this world worth living?’

So bored with this puzzle

I wish I could stand this

Bypass of beautiful tin head

Cliche of spidey kiss

Standing on the Pile of shit

I lost my numbers

It’s too late, fortunately

42 back to 27

Psychedelic teacher Was dying

And floating on the Terminbox

I saw vapor wave there, was so cool

But it’s also true that

I was a little bit disappointed

Don’t worry about me

I believe it in this flow

Vietnamese pipe organ

Zondarcommder and political correctness

Post-modern chair and Pregnant market

And encounter of a third kind

They smoked eyebrow

And had passed by 69

I hate almost everything in the world

But I hate the game, most of all

Sorry, it is sleep talking

Chewing chili-flavor memories melting in the word `RIP’

Managing and controlling people are personified

Human race looks like piggies these days

So I am more than somewhat displeased